by E. A. Clark
Clearly she had, and didn’t know whether to run or brave it out. Her thoughts echoed round my head. Don’t be so stupid, she told herself. Even if it is the ghost, she can’t hurt you …
But at once, all her senses were on alert. As she strained to pick up what was being said, it became obvious that there was more than one voice – and they both sounded male. I watched with interest, wondering what she would do.
What if they were burglars? Dropping the mop, Aneira fled from the cottage as though the hounds of hell were at her heels. I floated effortlessly after her. Reaching the outbuildings by Bryn Mawr, she stopped to catch her breath, turning to look back at the cottage. Someone had climbed out of the window at the back of Tyddyn Bach and had started to run across the field, away from the farm. I was shocked to recognize him instantly – as had Aneira.
‘Oi! Ianto – get back here!’ she yelled, angry now. She tore after her younger brother. But as she pursued him, she turned her head briefly, only to see another man emerging from the building. He looked about him furtively to see if he had been noticed.
My blood ran cold as I realized who it was. Peter Roberts. Aneira stopped in her tracks, not wanting to admit to herself what he and Ianto had been doing in the cottage together so early in the morning. She wanted to retch. She hated the man with a passion.
He must have seen her, but pretended otherwise. I looked on as Peter strolled casually towards Bryn Mawr, and realized that his car was parked round the side of the building, out of sight. He climbed in and within minutes the car had disappeared down the drive.
Aneira clearly couldn’t face confronting Ianto and slowly made her way back to Tyddyn Bach. The car keys had gone. I realized that they must have belonged to Peter. I could feel her despair and felt terribly sorry for her. She finished her chores, half-heartedly now, and then popped in to see Gwen. I followed.
‘Morning, Aneira!’ called the old woman, as the girl tapped on the half-opened kitchen door. ‘Come on in.’
She was surprised to find that Gwen and Will had only just finished breakfast.
‘We’re running a bit late this morning – Will had a doctor’s appointment first thing. D’you want a panad?’ Gwen asked her, as she poured more tea into Will’s cup.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
This was a very odd feeling, watching the three of them as they interacted in the kitchen where I had sat so often before.
‘Are you all done over at Tyddyn Bach, then?’ Will enquired, prodding fresh tobacco into his pipe. He screwed up his eyes in that way of his. ‘We owe you a few bob, don’t we?’
‘Yes, it’s all ready for the next lot. When do they arrive?’
Gwen hesitated. She looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘Well, there’s only the one, actually. Peter’s staying in the cottage this time – he’ll be here later today.’
Aneira tried bravely not to react. Telling them that he had already arrived would only lead to questions about what he was doing there so early, and she had no desire to tell them that it must have been because he was sleeping with her brother. She made her excuses and left Bryn Mawr.
Aneira knew how wonderful Gwen and Will thought Peter was. It infuriated her – but she couldn’t say anything. They thought she was just bitter because of his friendship with Glyn. It was true; she had resented their closeness. But whenever Peter came to stay, he always tried to exclude her and she felt certain that, given time, he would have eventually turned Glyn against her with his lies. He always seemed able to manipulate a situation to his advantage.
Like the day that Glyn died: Peter insisted that it would have been his own mother’s birthday and he needed cheering up. So Glyn took him to market when he’d promised to take Aneira on a shopping trip. Peter couldn’t bear it that Glyn and his fiancée shared something that he could never have; Aneira felt sure that Glyn had guessed that Peter’s feelings for him were more than platonic, but their friendship had lasted for years and they had so many memories in common. Glyn remained loyal to him to the end.
Whilst she didn’t like it, Aneira had no choice but to respect their bond, even if it often felt as if there was a third person in their relationship. Though he didn’t live close by, Peter always turned up at weekends and during holiday periods, ruining any plans they may have made. The sight of his wretched car parked outside Bryn Mawr never failed to make her heart sink.
Aneira thought Peter sneaky – and sleazy, after Carys confided in her about what he’d got up to in his teens. Carys’ family were decent people and he could have had a good life with them. Instead, he threw their kindness back in their faces. In her eyes, there was no excuse for his behaviour. And now he was moving on to her little brother. It sickened her – not because he was gay; she couldn’t have cared less about his or anyone else’s sexual orientation. But because she felt certain that he was using Ianto to get at her, not seeing him because he was genuinely interested in the lad. He knew how she’d feel about it all and in some perverse way he would get a kick out of it.
Chapter Sixteen
I watched Aneira pace up and down when she arrived home. Seeing Peter and Ianto had unsettled her. She needed to get out. Alun didn’t have a job, so they would be able to spend the day together. I heard her tell Marian that she was going into Bangor and watched as Alun furtively came to pick her up at the bottom of the lane. They drove into Beaumaris.
Although they didn’t have much money, there was enough for a couple of large flagons of cheap cider and a bag of chips, so they walked down to the end of the pier and bagged themselves a covered bench facing the sea to enjoy their purchase. It was relatively quiet, so, my unseen surveillance aside, they were unobserved. They ate the chips and then started to drink. I could feel Aneira’s relief when the effects of the alcohol started to kick in.
‘What’s up, sweet pea?’ drawled Alun, as she necked back the amber liquid. ‘You’ve got a proper thirst on today!’ Looking round, he produced a ready-rolled spliff from his shirt pocket. He lowered his voice. ‘Tommy had one going begging, so I wasn’t going to say no!’
Aneira giggled. She wasn’t used to taking recreational drugs, and had resisted trying anything initially. But Alun was very persuasive, and although she knew her mother would go berserk if she found out, it was a pastime she was beginning to enjoy. After all, it wasn’t doing anyone any harm. They shared the joint and I watched as she started to unwind properly. I felt apprehensive on her part; the lack of self-control induced by the alcohol and cannabis seemed to start warning bells ringing somewhere deep within me. But I was powerless to intervene.
‘It’s that bloody Peter Roberts,’ I heard her telling Alun. ‘He’s coming to stay with the Parrys today. I saw him this morning. He’s made a play for our Ianto. I’m so angry about it. I wish he’d just piss off back to wherever he comes from.’
‘He’s really getting to you, isn’t he?’ Alun looked thoughtful. He took another drag of the weed. ‘Maybe I should warn him off, be your knight in shining armour and all that …’
Aneira shook her head vigorously. She didn’t want Alun getting involved, knowing that things could probably turn very nasty. ‘No, I can’t have you fighting my battles for me. I’ll go and see him later, tell him exactly what I think of him. It’s all building up inside me. I need to get it off my chest.’
‘And what a lovely chest it is!’
Aneira threw back her head and laughed as Alun leaned forward and buried his stubbly face in her breasts. She ran her hands through his wavy hair. I felt her light-headedness and exhilaration, and knew that suddenly she didn’t care about Peter Roberts any more. He could take a running jump as far as she was concerned. It was a pleasant feeling that I shared. I seemed to be hovering aimlessly, somewhere between reality and this uncanny, dream-like state.
I watched as they sat, talking and kissing for what seemed like hours, but may have been only minutes. I had no real concept of time. Once they had finished the cider, they staggered back to Alun’s old van, whic
h was parked near the back of the castle. They collapsed, tittering helplessly, onto the back seat.
One moment I was inside the van, the next looking in from the outside. It was bizarre. It was as if I were waiting for something to happen.
They had been asleep, apparently for some time, when a loud rap on the window made them jump. Rubbing her eyes, Aneira could scarcely believe it: dusk had begun to fall.
She wound down the window. I could tell her head was throbbing.
‘Oi, boy bach, you can’t stay there,’ an irate parking attendant informed Alun. ‘We’re locking up. And your ticket expired three hours ago. I should book you really.’
‘All right, mate, keep your hair on,’ Alun told him. ‘I’ll shift now.’
He climbed into the front and turned the key in the ignition, driving off before the man had chance to change his mind.
‘Let’s go to the pub,’ Alun suggested. ‘My brother’ll be in there. He’s always good for a couple of quid when I’m short.’
Aneira was obviously feeling a little the worse for wear, but didn’t really want to go home. They went to the local pub and stayed for longer than they should have. I sat beside them, unobserved. By now she had drunk far more than she was accustomed to, and began to dwell on the subject of Peter once more. It troubled me. She began to ramble on and on about him, how he’d made her life a misery; how he always seemed to come up smelling of roses and no one seemed to know what he was really like. She was becoming increasingly animated. Eventually, Alun put up his palm sharply in front of her face.
‘Right; enough! I’m taking you round to see the fucker,’ he told her resolutely. ‘You can have it out with him once and for all.’
*
He was well over the limit, but Aneira was past caring. They pulled up outside Tyddyn Bach. The lights were on, so she knew Peter wasn’t over at the farmhouse.
Fired up now, she told Alun to wait in the van and hammered on the living room window.
I watched as Peter unlocked the door and smirked. I had a terrible feeling that Aneira’s visit to the cottage was a big mistake.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ he said sarcastically, looking her up and down. ‘What do you want?’
I could feel that Aneira was itching to slap his face – and I echoed her sentiments. His expression was mocking and defiant.
‘Stay – away – from my brother!’ I heard her shout at him. ‘I saw you earlier and I … I know your game. He doesn’t need to be mixing with scum like you …’
Aneira appeared to wobble a little, the effects of the drink having taken their toll on her balance. She clutched at the door frame to steady herself. Peter laughed scornfully. It made me angry.
‘I’m so glad Glyn can’t see you now,’ he said, ignoring her statement. ‘What a disappointment you would have been to him …’
She was livid. ‘Don’t you dare bring my Glyn into this …’ she began, trying not to slur her words.
‘Your Glyn? As I recall, you certainly never owned him. And even if he had walked you down the aisle, there would’ve been nothing to say that he belonged to you. What planet are you on?’
‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ she screamed at him. Her cheeks were burning. ‘You keep turning up like a bad penny. Even now Glyn’s gone, you just can’t stay away. Aren’t you capable of making a life for yourself where you live – or has everyone got wise to you down there?’
‘Me, making a life for myself?’ His tone was contemptuous, measured. ‘That’s rich, coming from the widow that never was. What are you still doing, coming to the farm all the time, playing at being the doting daughter-in-law? Did you forget you were never married? You have no claim on anything here. The Parrys have been my friends my whole life. Nothing will ever change that. You’re nothing to them without Glyn. It’s about time you found some other poor sap to sponge off – or won’t anybody else have you?’
Aneira was speechless with rage. She realized that this was a futile exercise. He couldn’t care less what she thought, about anything, and after all that she had drunk, she was having difficulty articulating exactly what she wanted to say. There was no reasoning with him, and any argument she raised, he would just turn the tables on her. She felt like spitting at him, but resisted the temptation.
Fighting back tears, she was about to return to the van when she heard footsteps, and turned to find the glare of a torch beam full in her face. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, Aneira saw Will, standing there in his dressing-gown and carrying a shotgun, of all things. What on earth did he think she was going to do?
‘Aneira? Is that you?’ he said, squinting. ‘What the hell are you playing at, girl?’
‘She’s drunk, Will,’ Peter butted in hurriedly. ‘I think she just needs to go home and sleep it off …’
At this point, Alun, presumably having seen the shotgun, revved up his engine and started to pull away along the drive. He stopped about halfway down and sounded the horn.
Tears of fury and frustration were pouring down Aneira’s face now. My heart went out to her. Will, seeing that she was upset, put down the gun and approached her.
‘Come on, now, it can’t be as bad as all that. Whatever’s wrong with you?’
‘Ask him!’ she yelled. I watched as she turned and ran back down the drive to Alun, sobbing.
‘Drive!’ I heard her shout at him. ‘Just drive!’ She was shaking with anger.
As they rumbled down the track, Aneira turned to look at Alun. He looked pale and anxious.
‘Why did you start driving off back there?’ she asked in exasperation. ‘I thought you were supposed to be my knight in shining armour? Fat lot of good you are in a crisis.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t be like that, sweet pea. Look, I’ve had a skinful – if the old man had called the police out I’d have lost my licence – or worse. I could do without it, thanks – I’ve already got a record. Come on – let’s get you home. You need to get some rest – you’ll feel better in the morning.’
Aneira was evidently still fuming. She kept turning Peter’s words over in her mind. Implying that she was some sort of parasite. How dare he! She couldn’t leave it like that, with him feeling all smug and thinking he’d put one over on her. She had to go back.
The headlights flashed on the cattle grid. Alun pulled up sharply as Aneira wrestled with the door handle. He tried to stop her from leaving, but as the door opened she struggled and almost fell out onto the path. Picking herself up, she started to run back up the drive. Alun shouted after her through the open window.
‘Go home!’ she called to him over her shoulder. ‘I’ll ring you in the morning.’
I heard the clatter of wheels over the metal bars and then he was gone.
I watched as Aneira produced the key to the cottage from her pocket. I realized then that she intended to let herself in and confront Peter. She planned what she would say – she wasn’t having a creep like him preying on her brother. Ianto was a good lad and deserved better. If the Parrys knew what he was up to, he certainly wouldn’t be welcome there in future. That would scupper his plans.
I watched with some trepidation as Aneira turned the key in the lock and went in. The sight of Peter standing in the living room galvanized her into action. She rushed through the open doorway.
‘You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?’ I heard her bellow. ‘I bet you told Will how “nice and reasonable” you were and how you “just couldn’t understand” what was wrong with me and why I was being so vile. Oh, what an evil bitch I am!’
Peter sniggered. ‘Yup, you said it,’ he responded. ‘You’ve pretty much shit in the nest there. I don’t think old Will was too impressed with your behaviour. You might have to find someone else to clean for in future …’
‘And you might have to find another family to play cuckoo with,’ she replied, suddenly gaining confidence. ‘Once he finds out you’ve been using his house for your seedy business, I think he’s going to see you i
n a different light. How many other men have you brought here over the years? And you’d better stay away from Ianto or I’ll be telling him all about you – giving old men blow jobs for pin money. He might catch something nasty.’
Peter looked stunned. His mouth dropped open but no words came out. She was unstoppable now.
‘Yes, I know all about your sordid past,’ she went on. ‘Carys told me years ago. Stealing from her family, too. How despicable! I could’ve told Glyn but I didn’t want to hurt him. He wouldn’t have thanked me for telling him something like that about his best mate. You’re a fucking lowlife. And Gwen and Will deserve to know the truth …’
Everything happened very quickly then. His rage having reached fever pitch, Peter’s arm was now raised in the air and, powerless to offer assistance, I watched in horror as a sudden heavy, stinging blow rained down on Aneira’s head. She staggered and fell to the floor.
‘You vile bitch!’ I heard him scream. ‘I’ll shut you up for good!’
Years of pent-up anger and hatred spilled from him now. The wind was visibly knocked from Aneira as the thud of his boot connected viciously with her stomach, over and over again. Her whole body seemed to convulse violently with the cruel impact of each strike. Like a man possessed, wild-eyed and puce-faced, Peter harnessed every ounce of strength he could muster to vent his fury. His expression was maniacal, the sadistic pleasure he derived from his actions evident.
I had never seen such unrestrained, raw barbarity. It was abhorrent. Eventually Aneira lay, unmoving and tellingly silent. The rain of blows had finally ceased and Peter stood back to admire his handiwork.
*
I was suddenly aware of looking down from the ceiling in the corner of the room; it was an odd perspective. I could see Peter standing with his head in his hands. I found this a mildly amusing sight. But then my attention was turned back to Aneira, who was stretched out, motionless, on the floor at his feet. There was a pool of blood by her head. A metal bar of some sort lay on the ground next to her body. And I knew then for certain that she was dead – and that I had been the only witness to her murder.